


I Wouldn't Forgive Me Either

by badapology



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Frenemies, M/M, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Very minor language, recovering what was lost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badapology/pseuds/badapology
Summary: Seungkwan doesn't know what to expect when Hansol asks to meet up. It's been twenty years since they've seen each other, and they just may be ready to move on.





	I Wouldn't Forgive Me Either

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 2069

Seungkwan slammed straight into the unmoving door of the café, far too groggy to see properly. It was seven-oh-five in the morning, and he was surprised he had even made it to the café only five minutes late considering he had woken up just fifteen minutes before. He shoved his shoulder into the glass again but it still would not budge. Great, he thought, rubbing his eyes. They’re not even open ye- 

Crud.

With his newly-found vision, the letters ‘PULL’ branded his eyes. He quickly hid his shame — something he had gotten extremely good at — and shuffled into the café, staring at his shoes. A couple of heads turned to him when the bell above the door rang. The store was practically empty, save for a barista and a middle-aged businessman. And he isn’t even here yet? With a huff, Seungkwan flopped into an armchair and crossed his arms. Couldn’t Hansol have picked a better time to meet, like 8 PM?

Seungkwan had no idea why he agreed to this meeting. Hell, he hadn’t even seen Hansol since middle school. Hansol was in town for business, yet he had chosen to have a reunion with him of all people. He had long since decided that Hansol was nothing more than a distant memory, a speck of dust in the life of the great Boo Seungkwan. When he first received the Facebook friend request, he had been shocked Hansol even remembered his name, let alone wanted to reach out. In the heat of the moment, he had replied. Two minutes later, they had a location and a time, and the date was settled. 

He sighed. He would give Hansol fifteen minutes to show up before calling it quits and going back to sleep on his ratty pull-out couch. His eyes drifted shut and he was about to doze off when he heard a voice calling his name. 

“Sorry I’m late, I’m still running on New York time.” His voice hadn’t changed. It was as confident as ever. His face, however, betrayed his nervousness with his furrowed brow and twitching lips. Seungkwan wasn’t sure whether to stand out of respect or to remain seated because…

Well, because he still didn’t know if Hansol deserved his presence. Even though he had decided to leave the past in the past, it still hurt to see his face so close. He settled for staying in his chair but extended his hand up as a compromise. “Choi Hansol, it’s been a while.”

Hansol’s expression broke into a toothy grin as relief washed over his body, but his eyes still shifted back and forth. “Have you ordered anything? I’ll pay — my treat for making you get up so early.”

Truthfully, Seungkwan didn’t want anything. He knew if he had caffeine now, he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep and he would face the repercussions the next day. But Hansol owed him for years of pain and suffering. A coffee was the least he could do. “I’ll get a caramel macchiato then.” He offered up a returning smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. A twinge of guilt scurried across his mind. If Hansol could tell, he ignored it and swiftly turned toward the cashier. 

Seungkwan took the opportunity to do a once-over of Hansol’s retreating back. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he’d missed the fact that Hansol was wearing a suit. Pinstriped, fitted trousers and a matching jacket accentuated his slim frame. It was like culture shock. The Hansol Seungkwan had known wore nothing but baggy jerseys and low-crotch joggers, with a bandana to push back his long blond hair. His hair wasn’t blond anymore; instead it was soft, mousy brown (his natural color?) and cut to a professional length. The old Hansol had been all bow-legs and slouch. This new Hansol carried himself with squared shoulders and long strides. It was a nice change. Seungkwan appreciated it. 

Mentally, he slapped himself. 

“One caramel macchiato!” Hansol said with a flourish, carefully placing the mug on the table. He’s only being nice because he feels sorry for you. 

“I specifically asked them to give you latte art, thought you might enjoy it.” Seungkwan would be lying if he said his jaw didn’t drop a little. His curiosity increased. “And I’m sorry we have to meet so early. Today’s my last day in Seoul and I’m spending most of it at a convention.” He checked his watch (Rolex. So he’s well-off. Dammit.) and finished, “I’m actually giving a presentation at eight so I should leave soon.”

Seungkwan nodded in understanding. “So, how have you been?”

“Pretty good. I’m working at a pretty big corporation in the States. You?”

“Um, I’m currently between jobs. I was a teacher but, um, I got laid off last week. I do a little bit of recording for OSTs and such on the side, though, and those pay well enough to get me through rent.”

“You’re living alone?”

“Yeah, I am. What about you?”

“I actually got married about three years ago, and my son just turned fifteen.”

“Fifteen?”

“Yeah, had him when I was seventeen. My wife isn’t his mother.”

“Oh.”

Neither of them said anything for a good minute. The air around them stilled and Seungkwan swore the silence was deafening him. He scanned the room for something, anything to talk about. Finally, he settled on the shiny golden name tag that read, ‘최한솔 Vernon Choi.’ Vernon. Back in middle school, that name was reserved for his friends, if you could even call them that. Teachers called him Hansol. Honestly, Seungkwan had always suspected that he had used ‘Vernon’ to make himself look cooler. Perhaps it started out as a different persona, the American Vernon versus the Korean Hansol. At some point, the two must have combined into one handsome, cruel boy. He took a deep breath hoped to God he looked relaxed. “I see you’re still going by Vernon.”

“Yeah, Americans can’t really pronounce Hansol.” 

Another pause. A surge of courage pushed Seungkwan to blurt out, “So why are you here?”

Hansol’s brows knitted together. “I just told you.”

“I mean, why are you here? With me? Do you not remember what you did to me all those years ago? Do you not remember h-”

“I came to apologize.”

Seungkwan’s mouth gaped open. Choi Hansol would never apologize, would he? Memories flashed across his vision: Hansol aiming a fist at his eye, Hansol kicking him in the stomach so hard, he coughed blood, Hansol shoving him down the stairs, Hansol spitting insults and slurs at his face. His mind was running a mile a minute as question after question whipped through his brain. For a moment, he was too stunned to make a sound. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to choke out, “W-what?”

“I remember everything, Seungkwan, and the one thing that’s haunted me for so long is the way your face would look so terrified every time I went to hit you. It was hell, feeling guilty and never being able to do anything to fix it.”

All of a sudden, Seungkwan felt angry. Who the hell did Hansol think he was? He evidently had no clue the hell he had put Seungkwan through. He felt the space behind his eyes heat up faster than his ancient laptop. His hands balled into fists and he resisted the urge to sock Hansol right in his perfect, white teeth. “How dare you.”

“What?”

Seungkwan wanted him to suffer, to feel his pain. “Do you know what I went through because of you? Your stupid wolf teeth were in my nightmares for years. They still are. No one could get near me without me flinching. People followed your example. Do you know how many times one of your lackeys called me ‘fairy-boy’?”  
Hansol didn’t say anything. He lowered his head solemnly. For some reason, that just made Seungkwan angrier. His voice crescendoed as he spoke.

“My parents found out when I kept coming home with bruises and they forced me move to the other side of the country, to fucking Jeju! My grandparents put me in conversion therapy! Did you ever wonder why I never came back to school? It was because I tried to commit suicide, Hansol!”

Hansol bit his lip, hard. He gripped the hem of his jacket, crinkling the perfect creases. 

Seungkwan scoffed. “I’m fine now, thanks for asking. I’m doing great with my shitty apartment and no heating and rising rent and being blacklisted from every job because I like men. Meanwhile, you get a wife and a kid and a Rolex and fancy coffee in mugs. So yeah, I’m fine.”

Shakily, he let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His chest rose and fell wildly as he struggled to regain his composure, his pulse slowly but surely reducing. Tentatively, Hansol spoke up, “You wanna know why I’m really here?”

Seungkwan’s heart rate rose again and the heat behind his eyes returned. “Hell yeah, I wanna know! After all the pain y-”

“My son is gay.”

“What.”

“My son. His name is Hanbin, English name Foster. He’s fifteen, he does color guard at school, aces all his classes, and he’s gay.” Hansol couldn’t look prouder or more sincere. Seungkwan thought, for the first time, that he was capable of forgiveness. His gaze softened and his limbs untensed. 

“I’m here because I’ve realized that I still love my son, no matter who he loves. I guess karma has finally bitten me in the ass because the universe gave me a chance to redeem myself.” He inhaled, exhaled, and looked Seungkwan straight in the eye. “I am so, so sorry. And I’m not just saying that because I have nightmares about what I did and I’d like to get a good night’s sleep. I don’t go a day without thinking of how much damage I caused to your life. I can’t help but think that if I wasn’t supportive, the same would happen to Hanbin.”

“Hansol, I-”

Hansol held up a hand. “Let me finish. I was an immature brat. I couldn’t comprehend that someone could be different than me. I was insecure about my popularity and I took it out on you because you didn’t fit my idea of ‘cool’. Even though it’s taken me nearly twenty years to realize this, I’m a firm believer that it’s never too late to try and make things right. I understand if you decide not to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me either, but please understand that I really, truly am sorry for everything I did to you. I can only hope I’ll be better to my son.”

He paused. “And now, you get to make the verdict.”

Seungkwan placed his hand over Hansol’s knuckles, a small gesture of comfort as they sat in silence. “The havoc you wreaked on my life, I don’t think it’s reversible. But that doesn’t mean I can’t move forward.”

Hansol’s lips twitched upward ever so slightly. “I don't know if we can be friends, but at the very least we can be civil. I may never forgive you, but I’m willing to try if it means we can both grow as people. And I think you’ve sufficiently shown your maturity.”

Hansol felt the sudden desire to surge forward and hug the other man. He didn’t, for the sake of professionalism. He knew Seungkwan might flinch away if he tried to initiate contact. Instead, he flipped his hand over and ran his fingers over Seungkwan’s palm. A warmth spread through both of their chests and they smiled. This time it reached their eyes. 

“If you don’t mind,” Hansol started.

“I’d love to stay and catch up some more,” Seungkwan finished. “I don't exactly have any work to do. But don’t you have a presentation at eight?”

“Screw it. I think this is more important.”

They remained in the café until the lone barista kicked them out for not buying anything. Seungkwan offered to take Hansol to lunch, on him. Hansol waved his credit card in Seungkwan’s face with a grin, and Seungkwan couldn’t say no to that. Hansol tripped on the way out, and Seungkwan gave a crinkly-eyed laugh before stretching out a hand to help him up. 

That night, with Hansol in a cramped airplane seat and Seungkwan on his fragile pull-out sofa, they had the best sleep they had had in twenty years.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this. Sorry about the lack of romance, but it didn't feel right to have them be anything but platonic. After everything they went through, starting a romantic relationship would be odd and defeat the message I was trying to convey. I plan on writing more romantic stuff, though, so don't worry. This isn't my first published work but it's definitely my first serious one, so it would mean a lot to me if you left a comment letting me know what I did well and what I could work on. Thanks for reading!


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